


The New Year’s Day Strip Poker Scavenger Hunt Extravaganza

by carry_on_my_wayward_wesley



Category: Angel: the Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5612356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carry_on_my_wayward_wesley/pseuds/carry_on_my_wayward_wesley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s New Year’s Eve, and after a few drinks, Wesley and Cordelia decide to carry on a tradition they started the year before. But they get a little more than they bargained for when a completely sober Gunn decides to have some fun of his own.</p><p>Rated T for alcohol use, nudity, swearing, and a liberal dose of adult humor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Year’s Day Strip Poker Scavenger Hunt Extravaganza

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around the middle of season two, during their separation from Angel.

“Man,” Charles Gunn slouched in the office chair and spun it around once. He came to a stop and craned his neck back, looking up at the ceiling. “Tonight’s gonna be the most boring-ass New Year’s ever.”

“Well you don’t have to spend it here,” Wesley told him with a shrug. “Technically we’re closed tonight. I just came to do a little research. And Cordy’s here because...” he paused and cast her a questioning look.

“I was bored at home,” she said.

“So you decided to come be bored here instead?” Gunn snarked.

“Wes mentioned yesterday that he had some vodka he’d share with me,” Cordy indicated the bottle sitting on the table between her and the Englishman, and Gunn noted that they had already drank about a third of it.

“What do you normally do for New Year’s, Charles?” Wesley asked, taking a drink from the bottle.

“Me and my crew usually get us some fireworks and load up our crossbows with ‘em. Then we go huntin’ and take out vamps with a burst of color.”

“That sounds...” Wesley trailed off, unable to find a smart-aleck criticism.

“That actually sounds pretty fun,” Cordelia admitted. She eyed the vodka and motioned for Wesley to hand it to her.

“So why didn’t you do it this year?” Wes asked Gunn as he passed the bottle across the table to Cordy.

“I ain’t really talked to my crew in a while,” Gunn said, not meeting their eyes. “If I’d shown up tonight, they might’a thought I just wanted to be around for the fun stuff.”

Wesley and Cordelia nodded silently, shifting uncomfortably as the atmosphere of the room turned a little awkward.

“So what about you two?” Gunn asked, changing the subject. “What’d you losers do for New Year’s last year? You got any traditions?”

The two of them exchanged furtive smiles. That was never a good thing, Gunn thought.

“What?”

“Well,” Cordy began. “We’ve got one.”

“I don’t think you can call it a tradition if we’ve only done it once,” Wesley pointed out.

Cordy grinned. “We could turn it into one.”

Wes raised his eyebrows at the bold suggestion. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, like you weren’t thinking of it, too,” Cordelia said. “You invited me to come drink _vodka_ with you on New Year’s Eve. That’s what started the whole thing last year.”

Gunn looked back and forth between them. “Wait...you guys didn’t...?”

“Sleep together?” Cordy looked almost disgusted.

“Good god, no,” Wesley shook his head emphatically.

“Not in a million years,” Cordy said.

“Then, what happened?” Gunn asked.

“Last New Year’s, Cordelia talked Angel into having a party at our old office,” Wesley explained.

The mention of their former boss and friend elicited scowls from all three of them, and Cordelia took another drink, then passed the bottle back to Wesley, who did the same.

“It was awful,” Cordy went on. “ _Sooo_ boring. Because, well...what do you expect when you put a broody vampire in charge of throwing a party? Wes and I ended up sitting in a corner playing Battleship.”

“The next morning I awoke on the roof,” Wesley said. “Wearing nothing but a party hat.”

Gunn sat up straight and raised his eyebrows. “How’d you go from Battleship to naked on a roof?”

Wesley held up the bottle as he and Cordelia simultaneously answered, “Vodka.”

“Initially I had no memory of how I ended up in that state,” Wesley said. “But after the hangover wore off, the previous night began to come back to me in bits and pieces.”

“Apparently the party got so boring that Wes and I decided to liven things up by playing strip poker,” Cordelia said. “But we couldn’t find a deck of cards, so we used our Battleship game instead. Wanna know what we called it?”

“Battlestrip?” Gunn ventured.

Wes and Cordy looked at each other awkwardly.

“Yeah, that would’ve made more sense,” Wesley said.

“That’s pretty great,” Cordy agreed. She looked back to Gunn. “No, we called it Strip Poker...with _Boats_.”

Gunn stared at them, baffled. “Seriously?”

“In our defense,” Cordy said. “We were a _teensy_ bit drunk—”

“We were plastered,” Wesley said.

“At some point I guess we decided to take it up to the roof,” Cordelia said. “Because that’s where we woke up the next morning.”

“So who won the game?” Gunn asked.

“We’ll never know,” Wesley said.

“Uh, excuse me,” Cordy protested. “I was clearly the winner.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Wesley argued. “Neither of us remembers how the game ended.”

“I still had my pants on the next morning,” Cordelia said. “You were totally naked. So, obviously I won.”

“Whatever,” Wesley grumbled, half-heartedly conceding.

“Y’all are both nuts,” Gunn said, shaking his head.

“So you wanna play it again?” Cordy grinned at Wesley.

“Do we even have a Battleship game here?” he asked.

Cordelia got up and went over to the cabinet. Opening it, she reached inside and dug around for a moment before emerging with the game, two shot glasses, and a triumphant, “Ha!”

Wesley shrugged and set aside his books. “Let’s do it.”

“Wanna join us?” Cordy asked Gunn.

“Okay, first off, I ain’t playin’ strip _anything,_ ” Gunn said. “And second off, Battleship ain’t even a three-person game.”

“You can make anything a three-person game if you’re creative enough about it,” Cordelia said.

“I’ll pass,” Gunn said. “But I’m definitely up for watchin’ the two of you make idiots of yourselves.”

“So I guess this will be an exhibition game,” Wesley said, and Cordelia collapsed into her chair in a fit of giggles.

Gunn rolled his eyes and sat back to watch the fun. Wes and Cordy took out the boards and arranged their ships, and the game began.

“The way it works is,” Cordy explained to Gunn. “Every time one of us gets a hit, we both take a shot, and then the person who scored the hit gets to decide what the other person has to take off.”

“So you’re gettin’ drunker as the game goes on?” Gunn asked.

“Yes,” Wesley nodded. “And you have to be a little drunk to begin with to think this is a good idea.”

“Which we are,” Cordelia said. “Now watch and learn. B10.”

Wesley’s jaw dropped, and he reached for the bottle. “Hit! How did you manage that on your first turn?”

Cordy smirked and gulped down her own shot of vodka. “Start unzipping, pal. The pants come off first.”

“Not starting small, are you?” Wesley grumbled, standing to remove his slacks.

“Nope,” Cordy said. “ _Small_ doesn’t happen until you lose your underwear.”

Wesley stopped with his pants halfway down and gave Cordelia the most offended look Gunn had ever seen from him, and Gunn threw his head back and laughed out loud.

“That was uncalled for,” Wesley said indignantly.

“That was _funny,_ ” Gunn interjected.

“You’re stalling,” Cordy said. “C’mon, lose the pants.”

Wesley finished removing his trousers and laid them aside before sitting back down.

It took a few more rounds before Wesley got his first hit. When he did, they each took another shot, then he motioned to her flower-printed top. “Your blouse.”

Cordelia unbuttoned the garment and slipped it off her shoulders. It fell to the ground, revealing the black lacy bra she had on underneath, and Wesley saw his chance to get revenge for her “small” remark.

“Quite nice,” he said, eyeing the bra. “Expected to be invited to a party tonight, did you? Thought you’d be getting a little action?”

Cordy shrugged off the veiled insult. “Honestly this is way more fun than some party.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Wesley agreed, pouring two more shots. They clinked their glasses, downed the vodka, and returned to the game.

On Cordelia’s next hit, she made Wesley remove his shoes. On Wesley’s next hit, he pointed to her bra.

“You won’t be needing that,” he said.

Cordelia clenched her jaw and glanced around with uncertainty.

"Come on," Wesley taunted. "No point getting modest on us now. Not like I haven't seen them before."

"Not you I'm worried about," Cordelia said.

She stood and crossed the room to the large picture windows at the front of the office and pulled the blinds shut. Then she turned around, unclasped her bra, and tossed it aside as she sauntered back to the table with casual confidence.

Wesley smirked and nodded approvingly, then gestured to the game. "Your move."

Cordy sat down and looked at the setup thoughtfully.

"C7," she said at last.

"Unbelievable!" Wesley exclaimed, and they both took a shot. "How do you keep getting so many hits?"

"I am damn good at this game, that's how," Cordelia said. She leaned back and favored him with a drunken grin. "Now, I think it's only fair that—since _I_ am no longer wearing a shirt—you should lose yours, too."

"Fine by me," Wesley said with a shrug. He reached up and began loosening his tie.

"Nuh-uh," Cordy said, shaking her finger at him in an exaggerated motion. "Just the shirt. Leave the tie on."

Wesley scowled as he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor. He was down to his boxers, tie, and socks, and he knew with dreaded certainty exactly which of those things Cordelia would make him remove next.

"Is your objective to make me look as ridiculous as possible?" he asked.

"Yeeaahhh," Cordy said.

The enthusiastic, drawn-out way she slurred her answer sent Gunn into a fresh fit of laughter.

“J10,” Wesley said.

“Miss!” Cordy laughed.

“Damn!” Wesley exclaimed.

“C8,” Cordelia said.

“ _Damn,_ ” Wesley said, much more quietly. He put a red peg in his four-holed ship and peered reluctantly over the top of his game board. Cordelia waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Those boxers just _really_ aren’t your color,” she said, clearly savoring the moment. “Gotta do something about that. Like, say...getting rid of them?”

Wesley ignored his shot glass and took a swig directly from the bottle. Then he stood up with a sigh and dropped his boxers. The underwear pooled around his ankles, and he kicked it aside.

The sight of Wesley standing there, totally naked except for his socks and necktie, sent the drunk Cordelia and the completely sober Gunn into equally hysterical fits of laughter.

“Don’t get a lot of sun down there, do you?” Cordelia said with a vicious grin.

“How’s it hangin’ Wes?” Gunn chimed in with a snicker.

“All right, you’ve had your fun,” Wesley said, sitting down again.

“Make your move, buddy,” Cordy challenged him.

Wesley was too drunk and too naked to give a damn anymore, so he chose a coordinate completely at random. “E10.”

“Crap,” Cordy’s smile faded, and she took a drink from the bottle, wishing that she hadn’t taken her shoes off an hour before the game even started.

“Those blue jeans look quite nice on you, Cordelia,” Wesley said sweetly.

“Don’t say it,” Cordy warned.

“But they’d look even better on the floor,” Wesley finished.

“Oh my god, Wes,” Cordelia stood up and unzipped her jeans. “You could’ve said anything, and you went with a cheesy frat boy pick-up line? Really?”

“I’m quite drunk,” Wesley said. “And I’m rapidly running out of fucks to give.”

Gunn snorted with laughter.

“C9, you jerk,” Cordelia said, throwing her jeans aside.

Wes put another red peg in his ship and spread his hands, waiting. Cordelia studied him for a moment, obviously wondering whether he’d look more ridiculous wearing just his tie or just his socks.

“Eh, lose the tie,” she said finally, waving a hand.

Wesley took it off and threw it at her.

“Yeah, that’s mature,” she said, swatting it away.

“E9,” he said lazily.

Cordy looked down at her ships, then did a double take, and Wesley crossed his arms and leaned back triumphantly.

“Hit,” Cordelia heaved a sigh of defeat and took off her underwear.

“Ha!” Wes leaped up from his chair and pointed dramatically across the table. “I win!”

“I look _smoking hot_ gorgeous naked, and you’re an idiot wearing nothing but a pair of socks,” Cordy shot back. “That’s not what I’d call winning.”

“Now, now,” Wesley admonished. “No need to be a sore loser. Tell you what. I’ll be gracious enough to offer you a chance to win the Battleship game.”

Cordy shrugged. “Fine.”

They both sat down again and resumed the game.

“I’m gonna be Lysolin’ both’a those chairs in the morning,” Gunn muttered.

By the time the game ended twenty minutes later, Wesley still hadn’t bothered to remove his socks, the vodka was completely gone, and neither player could speak coherently. Gunn glanced down at his watch and silently began the two-minute countdown to midnight, wondering if his friends would make it into 2001 still conscious.

Their timing, as it turned out, was perfect. At the exact moment the clock struck twelve, Wesley and Cordelia passed out almost simultaneously. With a smile and a shake of his head, Gunn stood to leave, deciding that the best thing to do was let them sleep off their dumb idea. When they awoke in the morning, they would be sober and really embarrassed.

Gunn picked up his jacket and made for the door. He stopped suddenly, hand on the doorknob, and turned back to Wes and Cordy.

When they awoke in the morning, they would be sober and _really_ embarrassed.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face as he was struck with one of the greatest ideas he had ever had.

 

* * *

 

“Uuugghhh,” The first sound out of Cordelia’s mouth when she woke up on the floor was a deep, miserable groan.

“That about covers it,” she heard Wesley’s muffled voice to her right, and she rolled over to see him sitting a few feet away with his head in his hands.

“What time is it?” Cordy mumbled.

“A little after nine,” Wesley said.

“What time did we pass out?”

“Sometime around midnight, I think,” Wesley grimaced and braced himself to stand up. He got his feet slowly, then offered a hand to Cordelia. She took it and he helped her up. Glancing down, she noticed with a hint of amusement that he had finally taken off his socks.

“Guess we’d better get dressed and clean all this up,” she said, looking around at the empty vodka bottle and the scattered game pieces.

“Mhm,” Wesley nodded.

They stood there a moment, taking in the scene and trying to figure out what was wrong with it. The realization hit them at the same time, and they looked at each other with matching _oh crap_ expressions.

“Where are our clothes?” Cordy asked slowly.

“Charles must've hid them before he left,” Wesley said. “I’ll check the cabinets, you look in those drawers over there.”

Cordy nodded and headed for the desk. Wesley made his way toward the cabinet at the back of the room, and stopped when he passed the table.

“Uhh...Cordy?” he looked up at her. “You might want to come see this.”

She joined him, and he pointed to the table, where the nearest Battleship board sat with a note taped to it.

 

CHARLES GUNN’S NEW YEAR’S DAY STRIP POKER SCAVENGER HUNT EXTRAVAGANZA

 

—the paper declared at the top.

“Oh no,” Cordy said.

Wesley pulled the paper off the board and began reading aloud.

“‘Morning guys. How are those hangovers treating you? You should get some exercise. That oughta help. I set up a scavenger hunt for you. If you want your clothes back, you’ll have to play along.’”

“Oh, as if!” Cordelia snorted. “We can just go home and get dressed.”

Wesley kept reading.

“‘I’m keeping an eye on your apartment keys for you in the meantime. Wouldn’t want to make it too easy. I left Wesley's car keys so you can get to all the clues. Here’s your first one—destroy your eardrums and your liver at the same time.

Happy hunting,

Gunn.’”

“Well _you’re_ out of luck,” Cordy said to Wesley. “But I have a ghost. He can let me in.”

Wesley turned the note over.

“‘P.S. Dennis is in on it.’”

“Aw, hell.”

“Looks like we’re both out of luck.”

“Well that’s just great!” Cordy exclaimed. “We take one step out that door and we’ll get arrested for public indecency. He’s gotta know that.”

Wesley’s eyes roamed the paper. “Oh, look at this. ‘P.S. again. Wes’s spell books should have something to keep you from getting arrested.’ What does that—oh.”

“You know what that means?” Cordy asked.

“Last week I was telling Charles about a projection spell I found,” Wesley said as he went over to the bookshelf. He pulled out a small red volume and flipped through it to a passage he had bookmarked. “Ah yes, here it is. It’s called _The Eye of the Beholder._ It allows you to project an illusion around yourself. Whatever you need. We can use it to make it appear to others as though we’re wearing clothes.”

“Sounds great,” Cordy said quickly. “Cast the spell and let’s go.”

“The only downside is—since we’ll both be inside the spell’s radius—we’ll still appear naked to each other,” Wesley told her.

“I don’t even care at this point,” Cordelia said with an exasperated sigh. “Just do it.”

Fortunately it was a relatively simple spell. Wesley assembled the materials within a few minutes, mixed the potion together, and chanted a few Latin phrases. A blue haze appeared and swirled around them, then vanished.

“How are we supposed to know if it worked?” Cordelia asked.

Wesley picked up his car keys from the desk and looked at the door. “Only one way to find out.”

They exchanged apprehensive glances, then stepped outside.

No one gave them a second glance as they walked down the street, which either meant that the spell was working, or that the entire city of Los Angeles was as hungover and indifferent as they were. It was anyone’s guess, really.

“Wait a second,” Cordelia stopped suddenly. “We don’t even know where we’re going. _Destroy your eardrums and your liver at the same time._ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wesley pondered the cryptic clue, momentarily baffled. All of a sudden his face lit up. “Caritas!”

“Right!” Cordy exclaimed. “A karaoke bar. Real clever, Gunn.”

Wesley’s car was parked around the corner, so they got in and drove across town to the demon bar. When they got inside, the Host met them with his usual enthusiasm.

“Well hey, you two!” he waved from across the room and made his way over to them.

“Have you seen Charles recently?” Wesley asked him.

“Yeah,” the Host nodded. “He came in here around seven and gave me a piece of paper. Said you’d be along later to get it.”

“Great, give it to us,” Cordy said impatiently.

“Not so fast there, pumpkin,” the Host said. “This little paper comes with some stipulations. Just one, actually.”

Wesley and Cordelia followed the Host’s gaze to the stage.

“Oh no,” they groaned in unison.

“Oh yeah,” the Host said. “You gotta earn the next clue to your little scavenger hunt. By the way, what’s he got you looking for, anyway?”

“No idea,” Wesley lied.

“Total mystery,” Cordelia said at the same time.

“Ah, I’m just kiddin’, Gunn already told me,” the Host said. He eyed them up and down. “ _Eye of the Beholder_ spell. Clever.”

Wesley blushed, and Cordelia scowled.

“I know the spell works on humans’ perception,” Wesley said. “But will it work on everyone in here?”

“You’d better hope so,” the Host said, pushing them toward the stage.

“Wait, we have to pick out a song!” Wesley protested.

“It’s already been picked out for you,” the Host told him.

“That can’t be good,” Cordelia said.

They made their way up onto the stage, and were met with a smattering of applause from some of the demons and a few snickers from others.

“Think we found the ones who can see through the spell,” Cordy said under her breath.

“Lovely,” Wesley grumbled.

The Host started the music, and Wes and Cordy immediately recognized the opening notes of John Denver’s _Sunshine on my Shoulders._

“Oh, you’ve got to kidding me,” Wesley muttered.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Cordy whispered.

The lyrics appeared on the teleprompter, and the two of them reluctantly launched into a horribly off-key rendition of the classic 70s tune. After what felt like the longest five and a half minutes of their lives, the song mercifully came to an end, and they beat a hasty retreat off the stage and met the Host at the back of the room.

“Nicely done, you two,” he commended them. “I think my ears bled a little _less_ than last time.”

“Just give us the damn clue,” Cordy growled.

“All right, all right, Miss Snappy Pants,” the Host dug in his jacket pocket, pulled out a slip of paper, and handed it to them.

Unfolding it, Wesley read the second clue.

“‘Really glad I had the Host get video of that. Can’t wait to watch it later. In the meantime, you guys can head out to find the next clue. Here’s a hint—you’re barking up the _right_ tree.’”

“Oh come on!” Cordy exclaimed. “I’ve had visions less cryptic than that!”

Wesley stared at the note in his hand and leaned back against the bar, then yelped in surprise at how cold the marble countertop felt on his bare back. He grimaced and went back to studying the clue.

“Trees, trees...” he mumbled. “Where have we been recently involving trees?”

Cordy snapped her fingers. “Barking!”

Wesley looked up at her. “What?”

“The clue isn’t trees,” she said. “It’s _barking._ Well, barking _and_ trees. It’s both. And tree bark. It’s three things. It’s a pun.”

"You're not making any sense."

“Remember a few weeks ago?” she prodded. “We were fighting vampires in that dog park over near Barrington, and you dusted that one vamp by shoving him into a tree branch?”

“Oh, yes!” Wesley said. “I decided to commemorate the occasion by carving my initials into the tree.”

“I bet you anything we’ll find our next clue pinned to that tree,” Cordelia said.

Wesley was already halfway to the door. “Let’s go!”

Cordy followed him out, and they got back in the car and drove to the dog park. It took about fifteen minutes roaming the park before they finally found the tree.

“Here it is,” Wesley tapped the trunk where his initials were carved inside a crude drawing of a stake. He circled the tree, but came up empty. “No note.”

“Wait,” Cordy leaned in for a closer inspection. “Look. That wasn’t there before.”

She pointed to the right of Wesley’s drawing, and he spotted a newly-carved arrow pointing upward. The two of them looked up and saw a piece of paper tied around one of the highest branches.

“How the hell did he get up there?” Wesley exclaimed.

“How the hell are _we_ gonna get up there?” Cordy asked. After a beat, she added. “I vote you do it.”

Wesley was too exasperated to even bother protesting. With a sigh, he reached for the nearest branch and began climbing.

“Gotta say,” Cordy called up to him. “As much as I wanna kill him, I kind of admire the amount of effort Gunn has put into this.”

“Yes, he’s certainly more creative than I’d previously given him credit for,” Wesley agreed.

He was halfway up by this point, and beginning to struggle. “How do I—damn it, how am I supposed to do this?”

“You’re too far out on the branch,” Cordy said. “You need to move closer to the trunk.”

Wesley inched forward a little. It didn’t help.

“You’re still too far out,” Cordelia said. “You need to be right up next to the trunk. Just act like you’re making out with the tree and you’ll be good.”

“Yes, because I’m really into nature,” Wesley said sarcastically. He glanced down at her over his shoulder. “If you’d like to come up here and try it yourself, be my guest.”

“Just move closer to the trunk,” she repeated. “It’s not that complicated.”

“Well perhaps you wouldn’t have any problem pressing right up against rough tree bark,” Wesley said as he carefully pulled himself up to the next branch. “But I have certain...assets I’d rather not damage.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Ugh, men are such babies.”

“I’ve almost got it,” Wesley reached up, stretching as much as he could. His fingertips brushed against the note, and he caught the string keeping it tied to the branch. He gave it a tug, and the string came undone, sending the note fluttering to the ground.

Cordy picked it up as Wesley scrambled down to meet her.

“Let’s see what smart-aleck thing he has to say now,” Cordelia said. She began reading.

“‘Which of you climbed up to get this? I hope it was Wes. The good news is, you only have one clue to go. The bad news is, you’re really gonna hate it.’”

Cordy looked up. “Yeah, cuz we’ve been enjoying ourselves _so_ much up to this point.”

“‘Your final clue—Sometimes a little perspective is a good thing. Other times it’s funny as hell. It’s all about the way you see yourselves.’”

“Oh god,” Wesley smacked a palm to his face.

“What?” Cordy asked. “You know it already?”

“He’s making a reference to a conversation we had a few months back,” Wesley said. “We were at that funhouse up on ninth, investigating reports of paranormal occurrences.”

“Where was I?” Cordelia asked.

“Out sick that week, I think,” Wesley said. “Anyway, while we were walking through one of the attractions, I tried to get philosophic about it, and Gunn mocked me for it. That whole bit about perspective...he’s quoting me. Although the ‘funny as hell’ part is his own addition. I believe the funhouse is where he wants us to go.”

“Which attraction was it?” Cordelia asked.

“The house of mirrors,” Wesley gave her a pointed look.

“Oh, now that’s just mean,” Cordy said. “Those things are unflattering enough when you’re fully dressed.”

“Might as well get this over with,” Wesley said with a sigh.

When they arrived at the funhouse, they headed straight for the house of mirrors and began making their way through the maze. Around every corner the wavy, distorted glass caught their reflections in the most unbecoming ways possible.

They got turned around more than once before they finally reached the exit. When they burst through the door and back out into the sunlight, they found Gunn sitting in a plastic lawn chair, casually sipping a glass of iced tea while he waited for them. _Sunshine on my Shoulders_ played from a boom box at his feet, and Wes and Cordy’s clothes lay folded up underneath the chair.

“Took you guys long enough,” Gunn grinned. “How’s that sunshine on your shoulders feelin’?”

“We’re going to murder you,” Cordelia said.

“Speak for yourself,” Wesley said. “I’m going to get dressed and go sleep off this hangover.”

Cordelia considered that for a moment, then turned back to Gunn. “We’re going to murder you tomorrow.”

A year later, when Fred asked the group if they had any New Year’s traditions, Wesley and Cordelia got up and left the room without a word, leaving behind a snickering Gunn and a very confused Fred and Angel.


End file.
